


you hold me ransom every time

by wllgrahams



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Shotgunning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6232144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wllgrahams/pseuds/wllgrahams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin and Neil fight; it really shouldn't be Andrew's problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you hold me ransom every time

**Author's Note:**

> contains allusions to canon character death and some discussion of grief and depression. translations at the end.

Just because the threat of death is no longer breathing down their necks, it doesn't mean Neil and Kevin don’t fight. If anything, the team’s newfound camaraderie is slowly driving a wedge between them, especially on the days that Kevin wakes up with the ghost of Riko pressing down on him, a palpable weight he can’t shift for days afterwards. He never says anything, but Andrew notices small changes; short temper, violent training sessions that don’t seem to stop they happen so close together. The way Kevin will spend hours locked in the bathroom and the fingerprint smudges left on the mirror each time he leaves. Regression after regression until he’s left with nothing but a slight tremor in his hands and a flighty look in his eyes that says he wants to run and keep running. Of course, it falls to Andrew to pick up the pieces. It takes days and wears down his patience so thin he almost can’t stand to be around Kevin when his hands finally still long enough to make coffee without spilling it.

Neil refuses to co-operate. Once, he tells Andrew that every time he looks at Kevin when he’s like that he remembers the look on Riko’s face as his brother put a bullet in his head. It’s past midnight, but they’re spread out on the roof so Andrew can see Neil’s face when he says it, features sharp in the moonlight. He’s smiling, and it’s not happy but triumphant. Andrew can guess why Neil wouldn't want Kevin seeing that cruel curl to his mouth when he’s already on edge.

Still, they have practice frequently and Neil and Kevin can’t avoid each other on the court. Today Kevin had woken up shaking and hadn't stopped until the door of the locker room had closed behind him. Neil is already changing in the bathroom stall so Andrew turns to Kevin and tries to hold his gaze, but Kevin’s eyes keep flicking away, never staying fixed on one thing for more than a second. He’ll be useless on the court today. The thought makes Andrew tired, suddenly, and he gets changed and leaves without a word, pushing past Kevin who’s still standing motionless by the door.

By the time the rest of the team join Andrew on the court, he’s thoroughly bored. His attention won’t stick now, he knows; when they line up to do shooting drills, he hardly even notices the ball and doesn’t reach out to stop it before it rebounds off the goal. The team’s frustration grows until it’s too heavy for him to take anymore. He starts to walk away from the goal, meaning to leave the court and drive back to dorms early, but he hears rising voices somewhere to his right. He turns. Neil and Kevin are staring each other down, racquets gripped tightly in their hands. Kevin is speaking French, but Neil answers in English, voice clipped and cutting. His nondescript accent makes his words sound precise, but Kevin’s diction is shot, his speech rapid and almost slurred.

“ _Arrête!_ ” Andrew hears Kevin say, his hand making a cutting motion in the air between him and Neil.

Neil replies so quickly he cuts off the end of Kevin’s exclamation. “Why the fuck should I? I said no secrets and I mean it.”

Kevin is silent for a few seconds. He looks over at the team, all gathered around them, before his eyes flick momentarily to Andrew and back to Neil. “ _Mais je ne veux pas qu’ils l’entendent. Mes problemes, mon choix._ ”

“ _Oui, et il peut t’aider, mais seulement si tout est caché. Je comprends bien._ ” Neil spits, but the look of triumph that passes over Kevin’s face at his switch to French is short lived. His face hardens as Neil speaks, until his jaw is clenched so tightly it’s turning translucent at the hinge.

“ _'_ _Il’? Evidemment, tu ne comprends rien. Tais toi._ ” Kevin steps closer and pushes Neil into the wall. Neil’s helmet bounces off and he uses the momentum to headbutt Kevin so hard he staggers back a few steps, still glaring.

“ _Va te faire foutre._ ” Neil spits, and his tone is all the warning any of the team get before he lunges for Kevin, fist aimed to hit him in the gut under his armour. Before it can hit its target though, Renee’s voice rings out across the court, not raised but powerful, pitched to carry authority.

“Enough.” Both boys turn to her, but their bodies stay tense, ready to fight as soon as she turns her back.

“We’re wasting time. Either you both sort this out, or you get off the court.” Dan adds, walking away from where the rest of the team is still standing, shell shocked, and towards Neil and Kevin. She crosses her arms and waits, foot tapping against the floor. Finally, Neil pushes away from the wall and crosses the court. He grabs a basket of balls and starts shooting them at the goal, ignoring the fact that Andrew is standing several feet away from it now. The team share worried looks behind his back and start up a cool down routine. Even Wymack doesn’t complain that they’re finishing early; he just looks between Neil and Kevin and shakes his head, mouthing something that looks distinctly like ‘above my paygrade’.

On the ride back to the dorms, everyone inside the Maserati stays silent. Even Nicky doesn’t try to lighten the mood with his usual chatter. Andrew is profoundly grateful because he doesn’t have the energy to shut him up right now, and needs to keep his mind fully on the road so they don’t crash. Even in this state he recognises the danger of letting himself zone out when he’s driving a car full of people.

Once they’re back, everyone heads for their own rooms immediately, wanting to escape the atmosphere that Neil and Kevin have brought with them. Andrew doesn’t care enough about this squabble to stay, but when he turns to leave Neil’s arm darts out, stopping just shy of his wrist. He glances back to see both of them looking at him intently.

“You can’t keep doing this.” Neil says, and Andrew raises an eyebrow, but it’s not directed at him. He sees Kevin tense and turn a glare on Neil.

“It’s not exactly like I have a choice, _Neil._ ” Kevin grits out, and Neil flinches at the emphasis on his name. Regression, regression, Andrew thinks, but stays quiet.

Neil turns to him and sneers. “Of course you have a choice. You could stop wearing Andrew down to the bone whenever you have one of your little freak outs.”

And oh, that’s the issue. There’s a slow anger shifting under Andrew’s skin now, pushing away some of the lethargic fog in his limbs.

“Don’t.” His voice sounds raw when he finally speaks. It makes Neil drop his hand and step away, but the anger builds when he looks at Kevin and sees the quietly pleased smile that passes over his face at the rejection.

“Look,” Andrew grits out. “If you want to fight, do it, I don’t give a fuck. But you bring me into this, we’re going to have problems.”

It’s not their fault entirely, this knee jerk reaction to being argued over like he belongs to someone. He knows this, and it’s the only reason he forgives them for it because that’s not how they mean it. But right now, he’s angry and he pushes past them, not looking back, to head up the stairs to the roof. When he wrestles the door open, the cold air starts to numb him immediately. His fingers go cold first, going white where he presses them against the concrete. It takes longer for the cold to reach inside and push the anger steadily back down, replaced again by the lethargy. It should scare him, how quickly he stops feeling, but right now it’s familiar and comforting. Sometimes, the anger leaves behind a hard knot that builds in his chest and makes breathing a painful, impossible thing, so there’s a dull pang of relief when he just feels tired and bored out of his skull as the chill works its way through him. He gets a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and leans forward to light it. He braces his arms on his knees and waits.

It doesn’t take long for Neil to come up after him. Andrew stays still and lets him approach. At first, he says nothing— he sits just out of reach and motions for Andrew to pass the pack of cigarettes over. The sound they make when he pushes them over the concrete is loud and too harsh for the silence. After he lights up, Neil finally looks over at Andrew.

“I shouldn’t have got involved.” he admits, and watches Andrew’s face, which he knows has stayed blank apart from the way his mouth purses around the filter of his cigarette. Neil’s is still lit, but he hasn’t taken another drag for a while. It’ll go out in another few seconds. His is nearly gone so he flicks it over the side of the roof without looking down and leans over to pluck Neil’s from between his fingers. Neil’s eyes are still on him, and his hand comes up to hang near Andrew’s wrist. For a moment he lets it stay there, looking down at the burn marks that are now only faintly visible on his palm.

“Yes.” he says, finally, and Neil’s fingers wrap lightly around his wrist to guide the cigarette, still tucked loosely between Andrew’s thumb and forefinger, to his lips. He takes a slow drag and blows it out of the side of his mouth, away from Andrew’s face. Neil lets go, but Andrew doesn’t sit back. Instead, he motions for Neil to stretch his legs out in front of him. As soon as he does, Andrew pushes himself up to straddle his thighs but doesn’t lower himself down, just holds himself up so Neil has to tilt his chin to look at him.

He hooks his finger under Neil’s jaw and asks, “Yes or no?”. He waits to feel Neil’s nod push his hand down before he wraps his fingers around his face to rest on his scarred cheeks. There’s no hesitation in Neil’s eyes, nothing to say he’s uncomfortable or self conscious— his tilted chin makes him look proud, defiant. A ghost of envy flickers through Andrew at his confidence but it’s swiftly pushed away by the heat that look triggers low in his hips. He focuses on it, doesn’t let his body betray him with fear or numbness, lets it spread up his spine and relax the muscles of his shoulders. Then, he raises the cigarette to his lips, drags the smoke into his mouth and raises an eyebrow at Neil. Immediately, his lips part and he sways towards Andrew to meet him halfway. When Andrew breathes the smoke out towards Neil, their lips meet in a bitter, too-brief wet slide that makes his heart rate spike.

The sound Neil makes— soft, desperate— makes Andrew want to press him down on the concrete and kiss him properly, thoroughly, but he makes himself lean back. Neil blinks his eyes open, already looking dazed.

“What did you say to Kevin earlier?” Andrew asks, and Neil’s forehead creases in confusion. “At the court, I mean.” he clarifies, but it still takes Neil a few seconds to reply.

“I said he...I implied he can’t accept help like a normal fucking person.”

“And you have room to talk how exactly?”

Neil grimaces and looks away at that. “Yeah, I know but he’s so— “ he breathes in, out, and looks back up at Andrew. His eyes show concern, anger, all the things Andrew hates seeing when he looks at Neil. It makes him feel trapped. Worse, unworthy. He grips Neil’s jaw tighter when he opens his mouth to speak, in warning, but he carries on anyway. “It’s different when he’s hurting you.”

At that, Andrew starts and pushes away. His voice is angry when he answers, but his head feels calm, his body a relaxed sprawl against the concrete. “He’s not. And that’s not your call to make.”

“I know.” Neil replies immediately, turning over to lean on one elbow. His hand comes to rest near Andrew’s. If he unfurled his fingers, he could wind them with Andrew’s but he keeps them curled in a loose fist, pressed against the ground.

The rooftop falls silent around them. It’s late afternoon but the air is already turning colder, seeping through Andrew’s jumper. Abby’s trying to make him switch to something warmer, but Andrew has been consistently ignoring her with the ease of practice. They should go in but ‘inside’ carries the promise of questioning looks and background noise that the thin walls can never quite keep out. On the roof, he has some peace, temporarily.

“Fix things with Kevin.” Andrew says finally, eyes falling closed. Neil doesn’t reply, but his fingers twitch, brushing Andrew’s hand for a split second that no-one else would notice. Neither of them move to leave as the sky grows dark around them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this on a complete whim because i relate to andrew far too much oops. if i figure out why i actually posted it i'll let you know.  
> title is from izzy bizu's 'adam and eve'  
> kevin and neil's conversation:  
>  _'Arrête'_ = Stop  
>  _'Mais je ne veux pas qu’ils l’entendent. Mes problemes, mon choix'_ = But I don't want them to hear it. My problems, my choice.  
>  _'Oui, et il peut t’aider, mais seulement si tout est caché. Je comprends bien.'_ = Yes, and he can help you, but only if everything is hidden.  
>  _'‘Il’? Evidemment, tu ne comprends rien. Tais toi.'_ = 'He'? Obviously you understand nothing. Shut up.  
>  _'Va te faire foutre'_ = Fuck you


End file.
